


Why Do We Yurt the Ones We Love?

by Aikori_Ichijouji



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Angst, Angst with Kisses tho, Angsty angsty angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Okay maybe it's mostly arguing, Promise, Who doesn't love kisses in the rain?, cross-posted to FFNet, no one - that's who, so there's that, some arguing, they figure it out tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24481966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikori_Ichijouji/pseuds/Aikori_Ichijouji
Summary: A contrived meetup, a yurt, and arguments in the rain. Lower the sails and batten down the hatches. Arr, there be angst ahead.The yurt is areal placeand I did not make up the hand-shaped chair. I'm just sayin'.
Relationships: Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Baby Don't Yurt Me





	Why Do We Yurt the Ones We Love?

“What are you doing here?”

He heard her before he saw her. The shock of bronze hair now noticeable when she lifted her head from where it rested on her knees. She sat, scowling and curled in on herself on a golden chair that was shaped like a hand. As usual, Lory’s eccentricity knew no bounds, especially not when it came to decor. The whole place basically bellowed President Takarada’s name—loudly and often—from the time he carefully rolled his car down the dirt and gravel driveway and saw a yurt swathed in bright pink fabric with a lavish, man-made outdoor bath set behind cedar privacy fencing right beside it.

He was prepared for that from the time the address was texted to his phone along with explicit instructions that he was to remain there for a full forty-eight hours before returning to the city. What he wasn’t prepared for was to find another person already at his destination. And he certainly wasn’t prepared for that person to be Kyoko.

“I’d ask the same thing but, considering who sent us both here, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Of course,” she snorted. “What story did he use to lure you this time? Did he say I was in danger or something?”

Kyoko clasped her hands at the side of her face like a damsel in distress. At least, that’s how she would have appeared if her mouth wasn’t set in a deep frown of disappointment. Ren sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn’t burdened with an overnight bag and a set of keys.

“I was told that I needed a mandatory break to work on my attitude. Apparently, someone complained that I was being irritable and overly difficult.”

They both knew that someone was their manager. It didn’t need to be said.

“He’s only noticed that now?” Her laugh was laden with false pity and it grated on him. “Hell, I could’ve told him that from the time I first met you.”

“Not like any of it matters. This whole thing was a setup from the start.” He made sure to fully exaggerate the shrug he gave her, knowing how much she hated it. “It’s not exactly easy to hide the fact that we’ve had a disagreement from the person who works exclusively with us every day.”

“Considering you’ve been hiding your identity from him for years, I didn’t think this would be such a hardship.”

That was a low blow.

He shifted the bag into his other hand while the fingers holding his keys fumbled around for the fob that unlocked his car. It wasn’t hard to guess that the whole situation had been engineered to get the two of them to talk to each other, but Kyoko didn’t seem to be in a talking mood. For that matter, he wasn’t either. The constant meddling in their lives had worn so thin it was nearly threadbare and they were both tired of it. He wanted them to sort this out on their own terms, not be forced together in some overly decorated yurt in the Japanese countryside. Ren breathed out a guttural sigh, shook his head and turned for the door. A quick backward glance at her proved that her expression hadn’t changed.

Without another word, he opened the door and stepped outside.

At some point during their banter, it must have begun to rain as he was greeted with a steady pelting of droplets. He groaned and started the trek uphill from the campsite that was far too elaborately outfitted to really be considered as one. By the time he made it to his car and threw his bag in the trunk, the rain had gotten heavier and he heard the faint rumble of thunder in the distance.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked at the sheets of water spattering against the windshield, blurring everything outside like a melting painting until all he saw were wavy streaks of green and brown and gray. He thought about the mostly unpaved, narrow road he had to navigate just to get there. He thought about the fact that his car was a huge liability on that type of road in any inclement weather. Then he thought about Kyoko sitting by herself in that ridiculously decorated structure that had the gall to consider itself akin to a tent.

He grunted in frustration and pounded a fist against the steering wheel a few times before wrenching his door open and stepping outside once more.

Halfway back down the hill, he spotted her. He’d preoccupied himself with watching the sunset in the distance—rather, what little of it could be seen from behind the darkened clouds— in an attempt to calm down before facing her again that he hadn’t noticed she’d come outside. Slow, deliberate steps brought him closer to her. He didn’t rush. His bag was still in his car and he was ready to retreat and sleep there at a moment’s notice. Her expression remained closed off and he couldn’t read her, so he prepared for the worst.

“I thought I heard thunder and wondered if you were seriously planning on driving back in the rain,” she said in a flat voice.

Kyoko wrapped her arms around herself and looked out at the horizon. The rain was making a haphazard polka dot pattern on the yellow sweater she wore.

“I considered it, but decided it probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“Good to know you’re at least sensible about some things,” she huffed, her eyes finally meeting his.

Whatever restraint and calm he’d managed to gather during his walk back from the car vanished in an instant and he broke. She always was far too efficient at pushing his buttons.

“Why Kyoko?” he demanded impatiently, holding his arms out in question. “Why are you so mad at me for turning down that offer?”

“You know why,” she mumbled, looking down to brush stray raindrops from her sweater.

“I really don’t.” He shook his head. “You are one of the few people who knows what I’d have to do if I want to return home and still be an actor.”

“Yes, but what I don’t understand is what’s stopping you from doing it.”

“You don’t… understand?”

How could she not understand? How could she not know how reluctant he was to leave her. Rivulets of water streamed down her face like false tears but the conviction in her eyes when she looked up at him never wavered.

“I understand the reason you keep telling yourself, but that’s not the real reason.” She shook her head. “I refuse to let you use me as an excuse just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he ground out behind clenched teeth.

“You’re the one who told me months ago that you had an all-important goal that you wanted to accomplish.” She moved closer to him, punctuating her sentence with a finger to his chest. “You said that wherever you were, your heart belonged to me.” She poked him again. “So why would it matter if you’re here or there?”

“I… I…”

“This is why I’m mad at you!”

Poke.

“This is why we’re stuck at some aggrandized tent in the middle of nowhere.”

Poke poke.

“We’re literally one hour outside of the city,” he defended in a weak voice.

“Just admit you’re scared already, Kuon!”

She screamed it so loudly at the top of her lungs, that nature itself seemed to hear it and underlined her words, with a blinding flash of lighting and roaring thunder. He shuddered; partly from her words and partly from the cold rain penetrating his shirt and sluicing down his back.

“Fine, alright?” He pulled her hand away from his chest, gently holding her by the wrist. “I’m scared. I’m scared of giving up this identity and taking back my real one. I’m scared of what, and who, I’ll have to face when I return. And, yes, I’m even scared that if I leave, you’ll forget all about me.”

“I’m going to assume you didn’t mean to imply that you think I’m fickle.” She rolled her eyes when he shook his head frantically in apology, sending water everywhere. “Of course that then means you think so little of yourself that you believe there’s nothing to keep my interest in you if you’re not physically around to reinforce it.”

There was nothing he could say to refute that. Kyoko let her head drop with a sigh and stared at the ground for a moment. When she looked at him again, there was something electric in her eyes that rivaled even the lightning in the distance.

“Look, there’s very little I can do about your first two concerns other than offer my encouragement and tell you that you’re going to be just fine because the rest of that relies solely on the strength of your conviction,” she steadily held his gaze despite the rain that splashed onto her eyelashes. “But I think a little clarification was lacking on my end for the third. For that, I apologize.”

He started to argue but she twisted her hand out of his grip to press a finger to his lips. It lingered there for a moment before she dragged it away to rest her hand on his shoulder.

“When you revealed your feelings to me, I kind of let myself get swept along. So, let me explain myself now.” Her other hand reached into the collar of her sweater to pull out the necklace he gave her. “This was not a one-way street.”

“W-what—” The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip, preventing him from finishing his question.

“I know that you’re aware of how I feel or, at least, you should be; we’ve had plenty of conversations about this over the past months. But I want to make myself absolutely clear because, just like me, you seem to have an issue with making assumptions unless someone explicitly tells you otherwise.”

He wanted to be insulted, but he couldn’t. It was true.

“Don’t think for a second that going back to America means you’re leaving with a heart-shaped hole inside you because you left this in my care.” She held the necklace up again for emphasis. “Because you’ll be taking mine with you.”

He couldn’t fathom how his body felt impossibly heavy and weightless all at the same time. His shoulders sagged and he bent forward to rest his forehead against hers. The sound of the rain finally came back into focus and he could hear the pouring droplets hitting the leaves of the trees around them. They were both thoroughly drenched, but he couldn’t find it in him to move from that spot. It could have been a veritable monsoon and he’d still want to stand right there. With her. Always with her.

“So, I know we set up boundaries while we sorted out this whole ‘you and me’ thing but—”

“But what?”

She tilted her head up slightly to look at him, bringing her mouth dangerously close to his. He pulled away.

“When you say things like that, I find myself trying very hard to not kiss you.”

An incredulous noise, somewhere between a laugh, a sigh and a snort, escaped her.

“Oh, you colossal idiot.”

He never noticed when her hand had moved from his shoulder to the collar of his shirt, but he definitely noticed when she yanked him forward to press her lips to his. The cold rain continued to soak them from head to toe, creating tiny puddles inside his shoes that swirled around his toes. But it was certainly not the time to start caring about that. Not when it was making her to press closer to him to share his warmth. Not when it was causing her lips to slide deliciously against his own.

He didn’t know how he could ever leave her behind after this. But, if that’s what it took to achieve his goal. If that’s what it took for him to feel at all deserving of her affections.

Well, he’d be a fool not to try.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when meandering conversations with other fic writers somehow wanders into strange territory where we all fixate on the (absolutely applicable and necessary) presence of a yurt and the fact that it’s raining and then spend at least a day trying to concoct a scenario in which any of that would ever happen. The yurt is obviously Lory’s though.
> 
> I fully realize none of this makes any sense at all.
> 
> Your mission, should you choose to accept it: read the rest of the yurtfic co-conspirators (yes, that is now what we’re calling it).
> 
> This author’s note will self-destruct in five seconds.


End file.
